


Counting the Minutes

by writtenhuman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU where Erica isn't dead because that's bullshit, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February, I know nothing about Banshees, Monster of the Week, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenhuman/pseuds/writtenhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the clock is broken, Erica is dying in Lydia's arms by way of giant bug monster venom, and Lydia doesn't know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting the Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo. So Erica dying was stupid and I am completely ignoring it. Also in a kind of AU third season. Lydia's still getting a hold of her banshee powers, but I've taken a little liberty with it because I know nothing about banshees, Lydia and Erica are already a thing in this, and they get a monster of the week because that should totally be a thing in Teen Wolf.
> 
> ...yup. Think that's about all.

The clock on the wall is broken. It reads 2:30 in the morning, but they’d gotten here at three—she remembers, Isaac had complained about it—so it can’t be right. Maybe 4:00 AM, 4:30? She wishes she had a watch, her phone, _something_. But she’d forgotten her phone when Stiles had come barging into her house shouting nonsense about giant insect monsters and lethal venom.

What time had it been then? She remembers the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock read two something. It seems like much less time has passed though. Maybe Isaac was wrong. Maybe it is 2:30 now, but she reminds herself that no, the clock is broken and she’s thinking nonsense. Erica is barely breathing in her arms and all Lydia can think is that she won’t know the exact moment that Erica died. She won’t remember the time.

She’s sobbing now, hard, trying to staunch the blood, her hands pressed against as much of the long gash down Erica’s side as she can cover. “Stiles!” she calls out, desperately. “Derek! Allison! _Someone!_ ” They’d gone after the monster. Deaton had said they might be able to reverse the poisoning if they could get a hold of some straight from the beast, but no one was coming and Erica was barely breathing anymore.

Erica makes a violent gasp for air, shaking hand coming up to grip Lydia’s wrist. “…it’s okay,” she says. She’s still wolfed out, golden eyes flashing dimly in the darkness. Her claws dig not quite painfully at the skin on Lydia’s wrists. “Hey, payback for trying to kill you, right? That happened, I remember it.”

Lydia shakes her head back and forth, murmuring, ‘no, no, no’. She feels four-years-old again, helpless and lost in a world much too difficult for her. “I didn’t die, remember. You can’t _die_ ,” Lydia says.

Erica says nothing for a moment. Silence. Lydia’s almost afraid for it, but she can still feel the other girl’s chest heaving. Then Erica says, softly, “Am I going to?” Her voice has lost the laughter present in her last sentence. Her face looks grey. “Can you feel it?”

Lydia thinks she has never hated all this Banshee business so much. She shakes her head again, but she knows Erica can hear her heart beating erratically as she does. The blonde takes in a long shaky breath. “Fuck. _Fuck_.”

She can feel Erica fading beneath her hands, but she clings to the flash of gold in her eyes, a dim spark in the darkness, Erica’s body fighting against the poison. But then Erica’s grip starts to slacken, her breathing shallowing out even more, and Lydia can’t sit by and watch it happen. Her head is reeling, adrenaline pumping and—

She _screams_.

She screams with every last bit of power she has. Saying no, you can’t have her. No, you can’t take this girl. She’s saved people with this power before, found them before they died, but what good is it if she can’t even save her friends. There’s something out there pushing back against her, something cold and vast and dark, but she’s not letting Erica go. She pushes back with everything she can muster.

The already cracked glass on the clock shatters, falling to the ground around them. The windows crack. She feels the whole building shaking, reverberating, with the power of her voice. She keeps going until she can’t anymore, and stops, gripping Erica tighter than ever, mouth still open wide. She looks down at Erica, trembling, and Erica—Erica starts laughing. Hard. She’s still paler than she should be, and her voice sounds weak, but she’s with her still. The wounds under Lydia’s hands, while most definitely there, have stopped bleeding. She can still feel that dark presence hovering, but it’s retreated into the background for now. There’s time.

“Did you just…” Erica gasps for air between laughs. “Did you just _scream_ me back to life?”

“Shut up,” Lydia says, but she’s laughing too. “Just shut up.” Erica’s lips are soft against her own as she leans down to kiss her through the laughter. She tastes of regaining warmth. Of life.

When Stiles comes tumbling through the classroom door, the rest of the gang following (because somehow, they always end up in the school for these things, always), they find them like that. Erica’s head cradled in Lydia’s lap, Lydia kissing the life back into her.

Isaac clears his throat and holds up a small vial. “So, um, not to interrupt, but we should probably apply this, yeah?”

Lydia pulls back, looking up at the group, Erica weakly turning her head. “Please, do,” Erica says. “Dying by giant bug-like thing isn’t really the way I wanted to go.”

 Later, they all make their way out of the school, Lydia and Isaac supporting Erica on either side. Before they get to the cars, however, Stiles lets out a groan.

“Guys,” he says, “It’s a quarter after five. School starts in three hours.”

Derek gives them a thumbs up and the most douchebag-y smile he possibly has as he gets into his car and drives off. Lydia doesn’t really care. It’s 5:15 in the morning, she’s half covered in blood standing in the school parking lot, and her crazy werewolf girlfriend is blessedly alive beside her. It could, she thinks, be much, much worse.    


End file.
